a repost from 2010:
I sent Cade to school this morning with a backpack full of turkey plates and brown bags cut into ‘vests’ for the day’s festivities. We had an argument about whether his lunch also belonged in his backpack, since there was to be a Feast. I told him, “I believe your feast is just going to be a snack.” But he was remembering the turkey lunch meat and corn chips and cranberry jello and pumpkin pie, served at the kindergarten feast last year. Surely, the menu would be the same.
He came and whispered to me this evening that during the feast, his eyes got very, very wet. When I asked why, he said it was because there were no grownups at the feast in first grade. In kindergarten, there had been grownups. He liked having grownups at the feast. When I asked if he had told the teacher how he was feeling, he said, “No, I didn’t want to explode and start crying in front of everyone. I just wanted to come home and tell you.”
I’m sure there will be others with wet eyes at their Thanksgiving feast this week. They’ll be remembering last year’s feast, and noticing that things aren’t quite the same.
The Lord doesn’t promise us a life menu that will match last year’s, or a table attended by every face that is precious to us. What he does promise is Himself. He will never change. And one day, when he invites us to his own feast, he will wipe every eye that has been very, very wet, and tell us that we are finally home.